Please Don't Turn It Off
by SofieNoLongerExists
Summary: AmazingPhil and Danisnotonfire. Dan was only protecting the flat. And now he's in hospital! He's hanging on by a thread and those threads are needed by others. So what then? Rated: T for mild language and upsetting themes. Okay so no slash but this story is not one for it.


Monday-9:04am:

Blue eyes bleared open, entering the harsh light of 9am and stinging from its Monday tinge. Before his dreams hauled him back from this currently disgusting reality, Phil Lester squirmed out of the warm marshmallow covers, nearly hurling himself onto the parquet floor. He pushed his glasses onto his face with such a way of tiredness that anyone could see he was bored of having to start his day by wearing clunky slabs of glass on his face to edit his view of the world everyday. Phil got the same feeling, the same thought he'd had every morning since it had happened. This was going to be a long day.

He padded sullenly to the kitchen and made coffee and cereal. Not even his favourite breakfasts could pick his mood up off the floor. He ate alone.

He went to the bathroom and showered. He then slathered his face in cream and picked up his razor. He shaved alone.

He then got dressed and straightened his hair, not listening to Muse or some other artist like usual. He then sloped around his empty flat, collecting various boring items and dumping them in his bag, ready to go out. He collected them alone.

He made his way to the lift and took it down, and before he knew it he was hailing a taxi. Alone.

Phil was usually polite to taxi drivers or ticket masters on the tube, and sometimes he did get a weird look, but more often then not his smile was returned. The employees receiving the grin almost suspect he's a tourist from a far off village (most likely), until they see his Oyster card. Today he could barely grunt 'Royal London' at the driver to take him to where he needed to be.

+1 text: Bryony.

'You okay?'

Phil ignored it.

+1 conversation starter: Driver.

'Y'alright mate, seem a bit down?'

Phil couldn't be bothered to grunt anymore.

'Alright then…'

The driver understood. Anyone who lived in London, was getting a taxi alone to the Royal London Hospital on a Monday morning and couldn't even regard you was probably having a shit morning and was preparing for a shit day.

Phil stared at his phone, not taking in a single pixel. When he finally snapped out of his trance, his first thought was how rude he'd been this morning to every person who tried to talk to him. Remembering Dan's video on how he hated Human Interaction, and how much Phil was looking like him in that video, he smiled. Pity it only lasted for a second. It seemed like that video was uploaded a lifetime ago.

Phil sighed, hating himself for sounding so melodramatic, and leaned his forehead up against the cool window, taking neither pleasure nor pain in not taking in Blackfriars. He tried to think of something happy, but something happy lead to Dan, and Dan was currently leading to sadness. All he could see was Dan on the living room floor, unconscious and bloody, Phil dropping the Starbucks in his hands and swiping up the phone on his way, stabbing the 9 button three times, shaking, scared, not crying because he'd gone beyond crying; that could wait until later that night. That was last Tuesday, six days ago.

_Dan slipped into what he now had to refer to as awake, rather than fully asleep. He could hear his heart monitor speeding up; awake, but in comatose. _

_He just wanted to wake up. That was all. He heard Phil sit with him every day, and refused to sleep until he left. Phil talked about everything, messages from the fans, get well soon's from radio one, how little he'd done of anything while Dan was gone, him pretending to be okay while Chris and Pj, or Charlie and Bryarly, or Bryony or Dan's family came and visited, only to break down, sometimes in tears once they were gone, clutching Dan's arm and begging him to wake up._

_It broke Dan's heart. Despite what the fans, or what the guys (as Dan much preferred to call them) thought about Dan and Phil, they weren't shagging each other, but that didn't mean he didn't love him. He cared for Phil, a lot, and it hurt so much to see him so upset and he couldn't lift a finger to comfort him. It was killing him. _

_Phil had told Dan's doctor, Emily, what they did on Youtube, on the radio, and he and Emily had listened to Phil the night before. He sounded great, like a proper professional, not a single cock up. It hurt Dan's heart though, because he knew he should have been there, and you could hear in Phil's voice that he was missing his friend._

_It sucked like Hazel Grace's lungs and Dan was not happy._

Monday-10:32am:

'Daniel Howell: intensive care coma ward.'

Phil droned monotonously at the nurse, knowing the way like the back of his hand already.

'Okay, this way sir.'

He followed the young, uninteresting girl to Dan's private room, his doctor, Emily, just walking out.

'Stable,' she muttered to Phil's now familiar face, before striding off to do the rest of her rounds.

She knew that Phil was Daniel's friend, or Dan as he was apparently better known, and she pitied the black haired boy. The patient had arrived around 8pm last Tuesday, blow to the side of the head with a vase, crow bar, cricket bat, something of the sort. Police said the kid had been defending his flat against burglars. Not professional burglars, they ran when they knocked him unconscious, didn't take a thing except that. His friend had visited every day since, staying for as long as he could, demanding every shred of information from every doctor or nurse that even saw Dan, looking like a puppy being chucked out in the snow every time he had to leave. Turns out the kids did videos on Youtube, and a radio show every Sunday night. She'd listened to it last night with the patient. Phil sounded bright and happy, but anyone could tell he needed Dan next to him to be at his prime. She prayed to God that Dan woke up before tomorrow, when she had to turn off Life Support.

Phil sat in the uncomfortable chair next to Dan's bed, looking at the monitor briefly. He knew the four pulses: the awake pulse, the comatose pulse, the sleeping pulse and the dead pulse; or more accurately, the not-pulse. At the moment Dan was in comatose, so he knew he could hear him.

'Hey Dan, how are you feeling today? Gonna wake up? Sorry, stupid question…'

_Not stupid, I will when I can!_

'Radio show went well last night.'

_Yeah Phil, I was listening. _

'I was so annoyed, Muse fandom lost to Keane!'

_Yeah Phil, I was listening. And I blame you for that…_

'Told everyone you were ill again. Got loads of messages for you! Mostly get well soons…'

_Phil, you read them out on the show and I was listening. Wait what did the 'too rude for radio' ones say?_

'There were lovely 'too rude for radio' ones. Most of them were *Wake up you little shit, we miss you.* or stuff like that. Made me laugh!' Phil laughed.

_Laugh again. Haven't heard you laugh in forever, it's weird. How are you?_

'The guys do miss you though. Not just the fan ones though, everyone at radio one, Chris and Peej and Bryony and that, your family. Miss you like hell.'

_Yes I heard. I was there. What about you though, I couldn't see you yesterday, it being Sunday and all that. How. Are. You? _

'You're so outgoing, when you're in the mood you can make friends with everyone. Still jealous of you for that…'

_I know about me! Come on, what's happening with you?!_

'I feel lonely. You need to wake up and get better so the flat won't seem so empty. On the way here I was really antisocial, I didn't even grunt at the taxi driver. Reminded me of your Human Interaction video and it made me smile. Well, at least for a bit…'

_Oh god Phil. I'll wake up, I promise! I'm trying, and you better believe it._

'I know you're probably trying your best to wake up and that, but please. Hurry up. Just… please.'

_I'm trying you little shit. _

_Don't worry about me. I'll be back soon. I've promised enough._

Monday-7:52pm:

Sounds were merging together in Phil's fuzzy brain. He'd been at the hospital all day and nights were sleepless nowadays.

There was Fall Out Boy playing.

There were comatose pulses bleeping.

There was the clock ticking.

Phil knew it was nearing eight o'clock, but he couldn't bring himself to look at check exactly. Maybe if he didn't look time would slow for a bit, giving him a little more time with Dan.

He held Dan's hand, playing with his fingers; he was freezing cold.

'Dan, you're freezing…' Phil muttered, pulling his coat from behind him and laying it across Dan's frozen body- in both senses of the word really.

They rested for only a few minutes before a male nurse came in, telling Phil he had to leave.

'What's his condition?' Phil demanded.

'Stable sir, he's still stable.'

'And what about… tomorrow?' A lump rose in Phil's throat.

'We can't keep him on this Life Support forever, so tomorrow we take him off. We can't afford to keep him on any longer, we'll be piling up with a waiting list by Wednesday if not.'

'What are his chances? Of… you know…'

'Staying alive? Or waking up?'

'B-Both.'

'Looking at his rates, there's an 80% chance he'll stay alive. As for waking up, we just don't know.'

'But what if he doesn't…' Phil couldn't finish that sentence.

'Then we offer our deepest condolences and have a range of funeral services-'

'Okay I get it.' Phil cut him off. He didn't want to think about that. He couldn't bring himself to. He looked back at his sleeping friend, begging him silently to wake up.

'Sir, I'm going to have to-'

'Yeah I get it, I'm leaving…'

Phil dragged himself home, desperately not wanting to go back there. Despite his eyes drooping, he would not sleep tonight.

Tuesday-12:02pm:

The comatose bleep rang out through the room.

Emily, the machine specialist who was called Harry, two nurses and Phil stood around Dan's sleeping self.

One nurse had two fingers pressed on his left wrist. The other was waiting for Emily's signal. Phil noticed he was the guy from yesterday who had to get him to leave. Emily was holding the handles of the defibrillator, ready to attempt to revive Dan, just in case. Harry stood at the Life Support, finger hovering over a switch. Phil held Dan's right hand, shaking at this clinical and emotionless scene. His breathing was hitched, and Emily might have to use that defibrillator on _him _in a minute.

Emily spoke in her professional, doctor voice.

'Tuesday, 12:02pm. Ready?'

Everyone gave curt nods, but Phil trembled.

'Phil?'

He started at the attention.

'Yeah! Yeah I'm… fine.'

Emily knew the kid was plain out lying, but she couldn't do anything but go ahead with the procedure.

'Okay. Harry, please.'

Harry flicked the switch. Life Support was dead. Dan's pulse instantly fell to half of what it was.

'34 beats per minute and dropping' shouted one nurse.

'Rory, if you please could…'

The male nurse, Rory, pinned Dan's shoulders to the bed and Emily rubbed the shock pads together.

Phil almost screamed when Dan's pulse started dropping, and he could stop himself violently shaking. He squeezed Dan's hand, tears already falling from his eyes onto his clasped palm, almost choking on the air he forced himself to take in.

'Stand by.'

ZAP

'Okay, clear.'

Dan had massive fleshy burns on his chest from the electricity, still unmoving and pulse still dropping.

'21 beats per minute.'

'Stand by'

ZAP

'Clear.'

'Still dropping.'

No.

'18 BPM'

No, not this.

'Stand by'

ZAP

'Clear.'

'5 BPM'

'2 BPM'

A monotonous ring came from the heart monitor. Phil clutched a dead man's hand.

No. No. This couldn't possibly be happening to him. No.

Emily checked her watch.

'Time of Death: 12:05pm.'

Phil was on his knees, tears like streams on his face, puddles on the floor.

'Please Dan, please. Please wake up come on, come on! COME ON!' Phil screamed at the body.

Nothing.

'Dan PLEASE!'

Monotonous ring.

'DAN!'

Dan jerked violently as a bleep came from the monitor again. Its pace slowly rose to a steady comatose rhythm.

'… 49 beats per minute. Doctor?'

The nurse looked at Emily questioningly. Her eyes were just as wide as the nurses'.

'I… um… well it seems he… died temporarily. Phil must have shocked him back in his body.'

Phil was barely breathing. He leant against them wall, Dan's hand still in his; limp, but with a pulse.

'Wh… Wha…' Phil couldn't form a sound.

'Just… sit down kid, I'll get you some water. Rory!' Emily barked as the male nurse led Phil to a chair and attempted to calm him down.

'It's okay sir, your friend's alive. I told you didn't I? He had a good chance and he took it. Alive, pulse, everything's okay. Everything is okay.'

Wednesday-11:34am:

'Hey Dan. I'm bored and I know you're listening. Want to talk?'

_You think you're bored…_

'Well I guess I get to decide if we talk or not.'

_No way, really? _

'You know you need to wake up soon, right?'

_No shit Sherlock, I never would have guessed._

'You're probably being so sarcastic to me in your head right now…'

_That's creepy, how'd you know that?_

'I don't know what to talk about in my next video. Don't want to talk about you, no offense…'

_None taken, I can see what you mean._

'Want to talk about yesterday?'

_Err, no?! I died for a bit, and it wasn't exactly pleasurable. I don't want to talk about yesterday!_

'It was really scary out here; must have been terrifying in your head.'

_You don't say._

'I was crying the entire time, but I obviously don't care. I haven't felt fear like that in a long time…'

_Can we please stop talking about this?_

'Did you really wake up to the sound of my voice? Or was it just some freak thing?'

_Phil, please stop._

'How did it feel to… y'know… um, die? Just for a bit.'

_Phil._

'Okay I don't want to ask that question, let alone know the answer. But were you really tired after? Or were you more alert, with you… y'know and all…'

_PHIL!_

'How the waking up thing going?'

_I swear I'm getting close now. I gonna wake up soon I promise. See, I've got this theory where if I rest for-_

'God, you're not going to answer me for a while, are you? Look, I'm going to get some lunch, I'll be five minutes.'

_Goddamnit Phil. _

Friday-10:27pm:

The phone rang. Phil didn't want to pick it up, of course he didn't. he'd already gotten messages from everyone who needed to know about the Life Support, and told them as kindly as he could that he just wanted to be alone. It could only be the hospital and Phil didn't want to hear it. But he had to.

'Phillip Lester?'

'Yes?'

'Are you the next of kin to… Daniel Howell?'

'I am, yes.'

'Are you free currently?'

'Yes.'

'Your next of kin has just woken up. Can you be here in half an hour, we've figured he's screaming your name…'

Phil couldn't breathe. Dan was awake. Awake. Not dead, not comatose, awake. And wanted him.

'Mr Lester?'

'I'm leaving now, expect me there within the hour.'

He hung up and ran out, barely remembering his shoes. He hailed a cab in what felt like years, and almost screamed 'London Royal' through the glass, and told them to hurry. During the journey, Phil would have texted everyone to let them know, but his phone was still on the coffee table in the living room. Way too late for him did Phil arrive, yet that was faster than any time before.

He didn't bother with the nurse, but luckily she knew him so let him be. He ran down the corridors, slipping and sliding everywhere, one thought only; Dan was awake. As he neared his room, Phil could hear Dan shouting, his voice hoarse. Good god, he'd been shouting ever since he woke up. Dan's shouts were the same every time. Phil! Phil! Phil!

Phil flew through the door and leapt onto the bed, missing a doctor by inches. His wrapped his arms around Dan tightly, and immediately felt Dan do the same to him. He could feel him, Dan, alive, warm, heart pumping fast in his grip and he'd never felt more gratitude. For minutes they just held each other. Then Dan finally spoke.

'How dare you let Keane win over Muse…'

'It wasn't me-'

'Yes it was. I heard you. All the time, every single word. I wouldn't go back to sleep until you had left.'

'Don't do that to me again Dan. Please.'

'I promised I would wake up, and I promise I won't go back. Thank you.'

The doctors let Phil stay that night; after all, they could really pull them apart.


End file.
